With piles of trash as targets, water from the Dream Well to support him, and Orthos watching, Lindon dove into focused training. Cycling aura, processing fish meat, practicing dragon’s breath, and learning the Void Dragon’s Dance swallowed every day and every night. All his sleep was replaced by the Dream Well.
He lasted two weeks.
That was as much time as they could afford. By the end of it, Little Blue was listless, thin, and pale. Even Dross—who assured him that Ghostwater was intact enough to last a few more months—had retreated into his gem to try and minimize madra loss. Though Lindon still rinsed out his madra channels with pure madra while training, the damage from the Path of Black Flame was adding up. His channels were scarred, and his Bloodforged Iron body was taking longer and longer to heal him after he channeled Blackflame for too long. He had to get out and find a way to refill his pure core.
None of them could stay here any longer. Dross needed a better vessel, Little Blue needed food, and Orthos needed her treatment. They had finished the Silverfang Carp almost a week before, and if Lindon waited any longer, his condition would only get worse.
He stood behind the door, Dross’ gem in his hand, steadying his breathing to smooth out the flow of his spirit. Ekeri would come at him with everything she had. She wouldn’t be trying to persuade or rob him, but to kill him. Orthos had assured him she would use a weapon, she would position her two Lowgold assistants to prevent him from running, and she would have no mercy.
“Dross,” Lindon asked, “how often do Lowgolds defeat Truegolds?” That was the question he’d avoided asking for two weeks.
He had taken off Sandviper Gokren’s hand while Lowgold, which meant he could certainly wound Truegolds. And he had fought Jai Long, knowing that victory was a long shot, so he should be used to this by now.
But he’d lost that fight.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Dross said, purple light flashing from the gem in Lindon’s hand. “Just focus on doing your best. Don’t think about the massively improbable odds, or what will happen if you fail. She’s probably killed scores of people stronger than you, but you can’t think about that, because an instant of distraction will spell your certain death.”
“...gratitude,” Lindon said, his breathing coming a little quicker.
Orthos shoved him aside and walked around Lindon, standing between him and the door. He glared at him, eyes circles of red on darkness. “Listen to me. The black dragons were the kings of this continent. In their day, their power dwarfed the Akura family. The gold dragons were just a servant family beneath them, scraping and clawing for every scrap.”
He raised one leg, tapping Lindon’s stomach with a claw. “That is the spirit that flows through you. She is two realms above you? Good. You need at least that much of a handicap to make it a challenge.”
Orthos snaked his head down and seized Dross in his jaws, then lifted the gem and pressed it to the keyhole. The door melted away, revealing the blocky structure of golden madra that was Ekeri’s shelter.
The turtle released Dross, turning back to Lindon. “Go out there and show her the power of a true dragon.”
With the Path of Black Flame flowing through him, Lindon felt his eyes warm as they turned black. He marched out without another word, not looking back as the door closed behind him.
In the blue light, Dross flashed brightly. “Wow, you really set him on fire, didn’t you? He didn’t look very encouraged after I talked to him, but wow, you knew exactly what strings to pull. If I had hands, I’d be applauding you right now. Picture me applauding.”
Orthos ignored him, settling down on the ground. The Sylvan Riverseed gave him a worried look and a peep, and he extended a paw so she could climb up and wait with him.
“Now, be honest with me,” Dross went on. “What do you think his odds are? He’s not here, he won’t hear you, I just want to know what you think. Turtle-to-gem.”
“He is my partner,” Orthos growled. The construct talked too much. He just wanted to wait in silence.
“No, sure, I understand that, but what do you think his odds really are? Ten to one? A hundred to one? Maybe just two to one?”
Orthos locked his eyes on the purple-lit gem. “One hundred percent.”
“...optimism! Oh, that’s a good one, it really is. False courage really does wonders for keeping the spirits up.”
“One more word, and I will eat you.”
Chapter 9
Lindon stood in front of the gold shelter with no veil, staring up at the highest window. Orange curtains hung limp in the still air.
Seconds after he stepped out of the hall, the dragon’s pair of servants walked out of the front door. Lindon tensed, tracing their movements, but each of the plain-looking men walked in a different direction and took up a post near the edges of the closest stalks. As expected they were there to prevent him from running. Though they felt like Lowgolds, his spiritual perception had trouble reading them. It was like trying to hold a handful of mist.
At the highest window, Ekerinatoth appeared. The dragon-girl glared down at him, golden scales flashing in the light. She had traded out her layers of fanciful colored clothes for something that looked more like a sacred artist’s robe of jade-colored silk. Necklaces still hung on her chest, and she carried a weapon at her side. It looked like a long, thumb-thick needle with a sword’s hilt.
Lindon looked up at her, focusing his perception on her, afraid to miss a single movement. She stood watching him.
Then she fully unveiled her spirit.
To his eyes, nothing changed, but his soul trembled. A faint weight pressed down on him, and she felt like a wildfire raging toward him. The Blackflame madra in him was nothing but a candle before a hearth. She dwarfed him.
Lindon gathered his madra together anyway and ignited the Burning Cloak. Orthos’ words bolstered him: this was just a handicap.
And this time, he wasn’t trying to sneak past her.
He kicked off the ground, launching himself up to her second-story window. Even with the reflexes of a Truegold, she hesitated an instant when she saw him suddenly appear in her face, and ripples of light started running in waves from her feet as she activated her own Enforcer technique.
Lindon’s fist almost caught her, but she twisted enough to avoid the impact. She slammed into her own wall, leaving a web of cracks.
Black dragon’s breath followed from Lindon’s hand an instant later.
She slipped beneath, and the bar of dark fire punched a hole in the wall. He wrenched the technique to the side, following her, the beam carving a long gouge in her shelter. Orange-gold essence drifted up in sparks like the rising dawn.
She flowed up to him, pulling her weapon from her side, but he dropped his dragon’s breath and closed the gap with the Burning Cloak. He knocked her wrist aside with his left hand, and this time his bones didn’t crack. Days and nights of pain, cycling the energy of the sacred fish, had forged his body anew.
Before she brought her weapon to bear, he grabbed her shoulder in his pale right hand and began to consume her madra. She slashed at his Remnant arm with her needle, forcing him to let go, creating a step of distance between them.
Then she thrust a claw forward. Orange light burst from it like a waterfall of blazing heat.
It was far more raw power than he could conjure in an instant. The beam was as wide as his torso, and while it wasn’t as focused or as destructive as Blackflame, its raw power overshadowed anything he could produce.